Read Online The Melancholy of Resistance by László Krasznahorkai - Free Book Online

mind on she would continually be running up against him. Explaining their separation by reference to her husband’s need for solitude and quiet working conditions, she was forced to maintain the appearance of marriage, and to suppress even the thought of a fiercely desired divorce; worse still she had to resign herself to the fact that with the assistance of Eszter’s disciple and favourite, the terminally lunatic Valuska, Mrs Plauf’s degenerate son from her first marriage, her husband—at first secretly but later quite openly so the whole town knew about it—had taken to doing all the washing, including the ‘filthy underclothes’. The situation looked undeniably grave but Mrs Eszter was not to be defeated: though she didn’t know whether personal revenge or ‘the struggle for the common good’ was the more appropriate, or whether it was more important to pay back Eszter (‘for everything!’) or to render her own rather unstable ‘position’ impregnable, of one thing she was certain, that this unfortunate state of affairs could not last for ever, and that one day, perhaps even in the not-too-distant future, once she had achieved a fully deserved power and attained high enough rank, she could finally settle the hash of this pathetic scoundrel who was ‘determined’ to make a laughing stock of her and make her life a misery. And she had sound enough reasons for thinking that things might turn out like this, because (for it wasn’t simply a case of, ‘It must be so, therefore it will be so’) the office of president not only presented the opportunity of ‘a free hand and the unfettered exercise of power’, but was also an encouraging sign of her growing independence from him—not to mention the fact that since she had discovered how to gain the support of the obstinate bourgeoisie for the drastic measures envisaged by the committee and, at the same time, re-established her useful connection with Eszter, her self-confidence, which had been sadly lacking, was now boundless and she was fully convinced that she was on the right road and that no one could stop her marching directly towards her goal … The plan was foolproof after all, and, naturally, like all ‘strokes of genius’, simple as pie, it was just that, as is usually the case, it was hard work achieving that unique and peculiarly appropriate resolution; of course she had clearly seen, right from the beginning when the movement was first advertised, that indifference and opposition to it could be overcome only by bringing Eszter ‘into play’; if only he could be forced into taking part, persuaded into the figurehead role, the programme represented by the empty slogan of A TIDY YARD, AN ORDERLY HOUSE, which had been up till then a contemptible failure, might form the basis of a wide-ranging, genuine and powerful initiative. Yes, but how? That was the question. It took her weeks, nay months before, having discarded a whole range of impractical methods from simple persuasion to force of arms, she stumbled on the one sure way of putting him on the spot, but ever since then, once she had realized that her scheme depended on no more than ‘that soft creature, Valuska’ and his mother, Mrs Plauf, who was commonly known to be estranged from and therefore all the more passionately adored by him, such an utter sense of calm had descended on her that nothing or no one could shake her out of it; furthermore, now that she was sitting among the spongy carpets and overpolished furniture of this tiny (‘… yet so very buxom’) woman, she was vaguely amused to see how, every time she dropped and scattered ash from her cigarette, or when she approvingly tasted the cherry preserve remaining on the table, Mrs Plauf’s cheeks ‘absolutely blazed’. She was delighted to observe that the helpless fury of her hostess (‘She’s frightened of me!’ she decided with some satisfaction) was slowly overcoming her earlier indignation, and so, glancing round the